


Snake Skin Shoes

by embarrassingresultofmyfreetime



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale picks up Crowley, Crowley tries to stay cool but it doesnt work, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, My idea of what happened directly after Crowley saved Aziraphale's books in the church scene, Wholesome, fluff kinda, his feets hurt so Aziraphale helps him as a thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embarrassingresultofmyfreetime/pseuds/embarrassingresultofmyfreetime
Summary: The events that take place directly after the church scene in the episode 3 opening.Basically, Aziraphale invites Crowley into his shop and helps him with his burnt feet. It's all just a very soft interaction.+ Aziraphale finally carries Crowley bridal style





	Snake Skin Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> I very rarely write in present tense- and I'm not quite sure what possesed me to do so here- but I gave it a stab and I'm sorry if it reads a little less smoothly than normal.
> 
> Also sorry about any spelling/grammer errors just ignore them  
I was very tired when I wrote this
> 
> Edit: FAR MORE people have read this in the last 12 hours than I could have possibly hoped so I caved and did a little editing bc you all deserve my best work.  
It's essencially the same but I did my best to smooth it out and fix some minor errors.
> 
> Thank you so SO much to everyone who's read this fic oh my goodness it means so much to me!!

Crowley drove the pair of them along the path to the road, now litered with shrapnel that had been thrown from the oblitherated church. By some miracle or another, the pieces of sharp metal and stone passed under the Bentley's reasonably-new tires without doing a lick of damage. Any other car would have been shredded by such debree, but this wasn't just any vehicle.

Aziraphale tries to focus on the stack of undamaged books in his lap. He tries to think about his physical form and how it's still in tact. He tries to think about anything other than Crowley- and is failing miserably.

The demon is sitting there next to him, just at arms length. He's just a touch away, pretending nothing's wrong.

But Aziraphale can see his locked jaw and the way Crowley's teeth are grit together- trying to hide the pain. Aziraphale can hear the uneven breaths that leave his friend each time Crowley forces the open wounds of his burnt feet against the pedals of his Bentley.

Aziraphale wants to thank him a hundred more times. He wants to ask a dozen questions- and yet none of the answers he might recieve could possibly matter more than the selfless actions Crowley had just commited on the angel's behalf.

He looks to the books yet again and then out the window in an attempt to distract himself.

Another painful crack passes along the center of his heart as he sees the nearly-transparent reflection of Crowley's face in the passenger window. It's dark out, but the contrast allows him to see Crowley's movement when he thinks the angel can't.

The demon's calmness and fluid motions would fool anyone, but he breaths sharply in agony once Aziraphale's face is turned away. Aziraphale's heart breaks for him.

It's only when they finally arrive at Aziraphale's bookshop that Crowley relaxes against his seat. He takes a deep breath and waits for Aziraphale to speak.

Aziraphale can't stop himself.

"Will you come in, my dear? It's awefully late and the least I can do is provide you with a proper thank you for your troubles."

"No trouble, Angel." Crowley says almost passively, not meeting Aziraphale's gaze as the angel leaves his seat and takes his books with him.

Crowley reaches for the gear shift to put the car back into drive before Aziraphale can close his door. In impulse, worried he won't be able to stop Crowley from leaving the second he steps away, Aziraphale reaches a hand back into the car.

His warm, soft hand rests itself atop Crowley's- which has paused, mid-gearshift. Crowley's already cold fingers freeze in place at the touch and Aziraphale immediately pulls his hand back. The last thing he wants is to cause his friend any more harm and yet the still panic he can see in Crowley's stiff actions concerns him.

Aziraphale had only just realized they were, in fact, still friends- and he wouldn't dare to mess that up again.

"Do come in." Aziraphale says, trying not to push but refusing to back down all the same.

Crowley grumbles a noise in the back of his throat and Aziraphale watches as the gears turn in the demon's own mind.

After a moment's hesitation, the driver door opens. Crowley steps out a little too determined and the moment his foot hits the ground, he nearly collapses onto himself. Thankfully, his right hand hits the hood of his car first with a loud thud. He manages to steady himself with a frustrated groan.

In an instant, Aziraphale is at his side- pulling Crowley's free arm over his shoulders.

Before Crowley can properly articulate anything more than a string of unpleasant sounds, Aziraphale has lifted him up into his arms as if he weighs nothing at all.

The cold breeze passes through Crowley's clothes, chilling him and yet leaving his feet burning all the same. Despite his best efforts, he's too stunned to say anything. Aziraphale's movements have caught him off guard and he can do little more than instinctively wraps his arms around Aziraphale's neck and shoulder as his snake instincts kick in.

Crowley isn't afraid of being picked up- he's spent quite a lot of time above the ground, being a snake and all- but it's in fact quite the opposite. Aziraphale's arms are so careful yet strong, as they carry his figure across the street and into the shop, that the angel seems unmovable. For a brief moment, it seems as if neither all the forces of Heaven nor Hell could move him and it's the safest Crowley has ever felt.

But the cold wind is still stinging at his feet and it's a painful reminder that being seen this close to each other is something they should both fear.

His face is burried in Aziraphale's collarbone all the way to the door. He only looks up when suddenly the chilling night air gives away to a gentle warmth.

Once inside the bookshop, Aziraphale continues to carry his old friend to a couch tucked away deeper into the heart of his shop.

He sets Crowley down with such gentle grace that Crowley has to stop himself from shaking at the sudden loss of Aziraphale's warmth.

Crowley sits, frozen and overwhelmed not only by Aziraphale, but the seering pain he is starting to feel soak through the bottoms of his feet. He ducks his head and grits his teeth to hide the agony that has replaced numbness.

And then suddenly Aziraphale is there, kneeling down in front of him with a soft white cloth and some oils.

"May I see?" He asks gently.

Crowley can only muster a soft nod as he thanks the fact that the brim of his hat can hide most of his emotions.

Somewhere deep down inside of him, he can very nearly feel a warmth from being cared for in such a way; but the pain is bombarding him more than ever- making it impossible to properly feel anything else.

Aziraphale goes to work with soft and slow persistance. He raises a cool gentle cloth to Crowley's shoes and pulls them off in favor of his partically-snake skin feet. Crowley never really figured out how the whole limb deal was supposed to work so they're somewhat simplified compared to the several dozen bones human feet normally have. The scales helped to protect him from harsher damage- but they sting like mad all the same. The edges of some scales even look charded dispite the fact that he had, for once, been wearing shoes the entire time. The sacred ground had- apparently- had no qualms about ignoring basic logic. But this was a catholic church he was talking about.

The cold feels nice for once and Crowley does his best to relax.

"I really must thank you again. I see now that I may have been mislead...."

The angel almost looks saddened by the acknowledgment of his error but does his best to turn it around as quickly as possible,

"But I am terribly humbled by your interception. I... I truely am lucky to have you... -r assistance, per our arrangement."

"'s nothing. I already said." Crowley half-stammered as Aziraphale finished wrapping his foot in the cool cloth and began on the other.

"Still." Aziraphale continued, "I haven't always expressed my appreciation for it."

"Not always," Crowley attempted to joke.

He began to stand up, but his body didn't agree with his mind. With the adrenalyn of his actions subsided, the pain reached it's height upon his foot's contact with the ground.  
He braced for impact and yet- when he opened his eyes, found himself crushoned by the arms of his angel.

He could feel himself becoming lightheaded from the sight of Aziraphale's gentle face smiling ever so sweetly upon him.

Crowley blamed the pain for his lightheadedness and Aziraphale sat him back down. The bookkeep brought him over a warm drink before continuing.

Crowley didn't drink it, but the warmth in his hands was a much-appreciated feeling.

"Do stay as long as you need to recover," Aziraphale said with a troubled expression. "You must not have realized how harsh the concencrated ground would be on you."

Crowley watched down at the angel, his gaze softened with love concealed behind his glasses and an overwhelming feeling of being loved.

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Crowley found himself admitting, meaning each and every word.

As soon as Aziraphale's eyes met his, Crowley turned away to hide his reddened cheeks.

"They... they can't heal by any miracle, but you should begin to feel better once the heat subsides," Aziraphale explained, "I'll put my best healing oils on them once they cool."

Crowley hummed a gentle something of a thanks and searched for his previously calm composure. The thought of Aziraphale's touch was pulling him in and once the pain had subsided- the new feeling took its place.

"Might I take your coat?" Aziraphale asked.

"It's cold-" Crowley said before he could think better of it.

"I have a solution for that too." Aziraphale teased warmheartedly.

Crowley carefully pulled off his hat and coat.

In return, Aziraphale wrapped a large quilt over the cold-blooded demon.

It didn't hold a match to the loving warmth bursting from Aziraphale's celestial soul... but it would do.

Crowley found himself tired after such a day and exhausted by the subsiding agony of his burnt feet.

He had hoped to get home without the angel noticing- but this was much better than anything Crowley could think up in his own lonesome flat.

Eventually, Aziraphale settled down on the couch next to him and Crowley lost his ability to resist. Aziraphale's form radiated comfort and soon, Crowley was bracing himself against it.

He leaned against the angel for support and soon after, he began to fall asleep.

Neither he nor Aziraphale liked to go through the trouble of trying to understand their relationship, but Crowley liked to imagine they would always stay this way. They would always look out for each other and, at the end of the day, Aziraphale's hand would always fall into Crowley's open palm.

Their fingers locked together as Crowley fell into a comfortable sleep.


End file.
